


Steady As A Rock

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Series: Steggy Week 2020 [7]
Category: Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film), Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressing, F/M, Free day, Peggy Carter has PTSD, Peggy is just tired, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Sad, Steggy - Freeform, Steggy Week, SteggyWeek20, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, War drains a person, warning for ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: War has drained Peggy to the point of exhaustion, to where she is forced to go against her better judgment and find sanctuary in Steve's arms for just one brief moment.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Steggy Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837666
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Steady As A Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this is fairly depressing, but honestly raw emotions. Yes, Peggy is a strong woman who holds her head high, but even Peggy is just human.

_ “Steven? Are you awake?” _ _   
_   
The whispered words from a well-known voice caused the Captain’s eyes to open, finding his skin sticky from the humidity in the air. The light sheet he wore fell from his naked chest as he sat up, brushing a hand through his sleep ruffled hair. It was nearly pitch black in his tent, Steve’s enhanced senses allowing him to see by the minimal light the full moon offered them. Automatically he went to turn on the gas lantern to give Peggy light to enter by until he stopped with the thought that he didn’t want to alert any of the other soldiers or Phillips that Peggy was sneaking into his tent.   
  
_ “Yeah, I’m up, Pegs. Are you okay?” _ _   
_   
There was a tone seeping into her voice that Steve nearly missed, not used to hearing it in her voice. It sounded like someone who could  _ barely  _ just keep their emotions in check. Something had happened.    
  
When Peggy stepped through the flaps, the first thing Steve noted was the redness around her eyes, as if she’s been struggling not to cry for the last several hours. When those normally sharp eyes laid on him, her chin dimpled and bottom lip started to tremble despite her best efforts.    
  
She was close to breaking.    
  
_ “Oh, Pegs.” _ _   
_   
The humidity had caused her hair to become wild with a mass of curls, pulled off of her neck by a scrap of fabric in some attempt to remain cool this evening. She still wore her skirt and jacket, the tie undone in a hasty manner that told him she’d had yet another late night pouring over documents.   
  
“Perhaps I-I should go,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her own emotion. “This was a mistake, you’re obviously trying to sleep. And it’s late, you -”   
  
“Hang on, now. Peggy-” Steve hurriedly stood up, the blanket pooling at his feet. His feet tangled in the blanket and only avoided falling flat on his face by Peggy catching him by the chest. He offered a sheepish smile as she corrected him and he untangled himself. “I knew you’d always be there to sweep me off my feet.”   
  
That earned a small, wet chuckle from Peggy, the tears already starting to gather in the corner of her eyes. She blinked hard to avoid shedding them, but it proved successful as Steve lowered himself to the cot and pulled her down into his lap. He situated her so she was laying against his chest, her legs tucked against his side.    
  
If anyone was to come in, especially Phillips there would be hell to pay for such a position. There would be no way one could explain why they were laying like this. There was only  _ so  _ much Phillips could turn a blind eye to amongst those under him.    
  
Steve’s broad hand soothed over her back, smoothing out the wrinkles of her clothes. “What’s wrong, Pegs? And don’t you dare say nothing. I’ve never seen you this worked up before.”   
  
Late at night, in the privacy of her own quarters, Peggy would allow herself the silent cry from the fears and frustrations of the day. She knew Steve had heard a time or two because come morning a little gift would be waiting at her desk. Rather it was his ration of chocolates or it was a steaming cup of coffee, it always brought a small smile to her face.    
  
Peggy sniffled despite herself, feeling ridiculous in the manner Steve was cradling her and for how she was reacting. Truth was, she just needed the comfort, and however the risk it was, she found that comfort in Steve’s arms.    
  
In the minimum moonlight pouring in from the small holes in the canvas, she could make out how tired Steve was. The black bags under his eyes, the crinkles in the corner of them. It mirrored her own. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, the darker bags that seemed to be permanently etched into her skin. Only masked by the slightest touch of makeup.   
  
“We lost a-another fifteen m-men,” Peggy whispered, unable to speak any louder. “German planes, late at night. Phillips has been writing letters all afternoon. He finally sent me to bed when I was falling asleep at the desk with his files. It-it’s just…”   
  
She turned to bury her face into Steve’s chest, her hand curling amongst his warm skin. Steve curled himself around her as if he could protect her from the horrors of this war.    
  
That was the horror of the war, wasn’t it? You expected death, you expected it in the reports you read, the numbers growing larger and larger by the day. You expect to see names you know, friends you made, even people you consider family until you ask yourself is it worth it to get close to people just to lose them? You see their faces in your dreams, swimming above you. Distant memories that will be forgotten in time.    
  
That’s the cost of war. Where you lead the Howling Commandos through the trenches and destroyed towns, knowing the story of what took place here would be the same amongst all over the war-torn country. Where, at the end of the day, as you laid your head down to rest, you were unsure if you’d live to see another day.    
  
The cost of war took away the good men and women who were able to step up and serve their country. People you were close to, people you shared drinks and laughs with. Brothers who you comforted when they cried because war exhausted you to the point that you could do nothing, but cry. How the innocent ones were exposed and killed and people were left to scramble to pick up the pieces without a moment's notice to mourn the dead because wasting even  _ one  _ second could mean another senseless death.    
  
God, did Steve know the horrors more than anyone.    
  
History would write the war through the victor’s eyes. It would remember the dead and the dying but not the innocent souls who had suffered. Not the towns who were now tarnished and never to be whole and same again.    
  
Every night, he played the horrors of the war in his head, counting down his days until it was him laying on that field, struggling to breathe as his lungs filled with blood.   
  
_ “Peggy…” _ Steve closed his eyes and buried his nose into her hair. She must’ve freshened up before coming over, the scent of rose water was much stronger now. “I am so sorry. It’s going to end, w-we’ll find a way to end it.”   
  
What else could he do, but apologize over and over again? For something that would happen tomorrow and the next day and next, until the war came to a halt and God only knows when that would be.    
  
“Come here. You need to rest, I am not letting you be alone tonight.”   
  
Laying down, he laid them on his side, Peggy’s face buried into his chest. He could feel her lashes tickling his bare chest, wet tears dripping on his skin. His arms wrapped around her, one hand cradling in her hair and undoing the piece of fabric. He smoothed his fingertips through the rough curls, his other hand dipping to rub at the small of her back.    
  
She clung to him like tomorrow would be his last, as if the Lord was going to call them home. Hell, Steve couldn’t blame her.   
  
“Let it out, Peggy. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, darling.”   
  
The first sob shook through Peggy’s torso, working from her chest in a wet cough. She clung to Steve, nails biting into his skin as one sob followed after the other. Until her shoulders were shaking and her tears drenched her face. All Steve could do was hold her close, kissing her temple in some attempt at physical comfort.  
  
He didn’t try to stop her sobs or silence them. He just slowly rubbed her back and let her cry it out like she needed to. The dam had been threatening to break for so long and now the water was flowing.   
  
Peggy couldn’t tell you for how long she cried or what was whispered or blubbered between her sobs. Only that at some point in her tearful sorrow with the weight of the war and world on the both of them, she’d cried herself into an exhausted sleep.   
  
Steve would wake up at the crack of dawn, his arms empty and a blanket tucked around him despite the sticky heat. He grunted as he sat up, hoping Peggy was okay. A note sat, just barely visible under his lantern. Flipping it open, Steve smiled when the barest scent of rose water wafted towards him.   
  
_ I hope you know that you snore. - PC _ _   
_ _   
_ _ P.S. Thank you, Steven, for being my rock.  _   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> At least, in the end, we know they got their happy ending, which is what I told myself as I cry while writing this.


End file.
